Twisted Metal Black: The Asylum
by AB vs Predator
Summary: A sometimes serious look at the characters and what they were like in the asylum. M for language and probably violence somewhere along the line.
1. Chapter 1

**Twisted Metal: Black**

_The diaries_

Entry One: Sweet Tooth and Mr. Grimm

Needles Kane: Sweet Tooth

I'd been told he was having a tantrum in his cell again. So I went down and expected to see him writhing on the floor like he usually does. Instead, he was across the cell, facing away from me and leaning against the wall as if his head _wasn't_ on fire.

"Needles?" I ventured quietly. The clown whipped around and flew at the door so fast I was close enough to his masked face to the point where I could feel his rapid breathing before I even knew what happened. He sat there for a moment, shivering, before suddenly slamming his fists into the door. I _hate_ it when he does that. It's so ungodly loud and I'm worried he might damage the door enough to where he could break it off one day. He's been here for close to three months and already I can start to see dents.

"_Doctor_." He said in his deceptively soothing deep voice.

"I _know_ you must have some kind of medicine that can fix this...this _headache_." He continued.

"We've tried this already, Mr. Kane. Last time we tried to administer tranquilizers we had to get all the security here to hold the door closed. I'm not going to bother trying again..." Sweet Tooth, as he'd been nicknamed, stood there quietly, the flames on his head flickering with a dazzling fluidity. Apparently, he had to decide whether he was going to go into a fit or try to reason with me a bit longer.

_WHAM!_

He hit the fucking door again. Then he turned around and went back to the other end of the cell, resuming his stance of leaning on the wall.

"Needles."

Nothing.

"Mr. _Kane_."

He merely shook his head. I gave up. He seemed docile once more and obviously wasn't in the mood for a nice chat. I closed the small slit of a window the door has and went back to my office.

* * *

_I'm gonna get out of here some day. And let me tell you, boys and girls, once I'm out _nobody_ is going to be safe. It's ridiculous being in here. There were so many people I hadn't _killed_! Well, things would change eventually. I knew it. They couldn't keep me in here for long. I've tried setting the walls on fire with my head, but it's no use. They must have fire-proofed my cell before I went in._

_I think you _know_ why I'm in here. I went on a killing spree for a certain period of time...I can't recall just how long. Why? Try setting your head on fire and then counting up days. It's..._difficult_. But the toll went over the hundreds mark._

_("No! Please! Let me go!"_

_"Fucking _die_, you piece of _shit!_")_

_Yes, it had been a good time while it lasted. But it was over..._

_for now.

* * *

_

"Open the god damn door."

He was at it again. I really hate being the main guard for his cell.

"_Open_, you fucking _pig_!" Needles screamed. The metal door gave his voice a bouncy quality.

"I can't open the door, Mr. Kane. They don't even give the guards to your cell a key."

"You mean...they don't trust _people_ with me?" He asked mockingly.

"Why would they you freakin' psycho?"

"Well, Marty...go and _find _me a _key_."

"Give it a rest, wouldya?" Hopefully he'd give up here. Sometimes he pushed it further.

"Marty...I'd hate to have to kill you when I get out."

"Bull shit."

"You're right. I would savor every second."

"Good thing you're never getting out."

_WHAM!_

"_OPEN MY FUCKING DOOR!_!" It appeared he wasn't giving up easily this time.

"Keep poundin' on that door hard enough...and...well...one day I'll have to shoot ya."

* * *

Mr. Grimm

_Charlie. Vietnam. War. Things I link with my fall to insanity. The thing I hold most responsible, however, is what happened to Benny. The subsequent problem that arose really takes it outta your mental health._

_I had to eat him. He'd been shot, and we were thrown into some stinking hole. It must've been twenty-five feet deep. A military advisor there for the Vietnamese told me the only way I could survive was to eat, and he threw down a machete._

_Afterwards, I felt like a horrible person. Not to mention a bad soldier, but I wanted him to know he would be remembered. So I took his skull and put it on, a constant reminder to me of what had happened to my friend. The moment I truly snapped all the way was when the marines that found me tried to take the helmet off. I killed four of them before being knocked out._

"Hey, Doc."

"And how are we today?" I didn't feel this was a very good question.

"How do you _think_?"

"Same old, same old, eh?"

"Listen, Doc. I need some kind of stronger medicine...for my visions. I can barely eat anymore."

"Well any more and you might _overdose_."

"I don't fucking _care_! I am _starving_, man! I need to _eat_! REAL FOOD!"

"Now please, calm down." He looked me in the eyes as he said this. He looked me in the fucking _eyes_. I could see right through him, then. He thought I was crazy. This doctor here thinks I'm some kind of inhuman beast because I was forced to cannibalism. He would've done the same thing. Anybody would have done the same thing. You have to eat to survive. I hadn't eaten in over five days. Five. Days.

"Listen closely, friend. I hadn't _eaten _in five days. I was starving to death! Don't try to tell me I'm some kind of monster!"

"I'm not saying that at all!" He looked away when he said this one. The doctor was lying.

"You little bastard! I'LL EAT YOUR FUCKING FACE! _STOP FEEDING ME PEOPLE!_"

* * *

A/N: So, as you can see this is part humor and part serious. I love how dark this game is but I also think it's pretty spoofable. Characters I really like (Sweet Tooth, for example) will stay mostly in character. But I may spoof some of them. The next chapter might be up really soon, or it might not. Each part will have a character or two, it might have three at the most. I might go through and give them multiple parts as well. For sure I'm going to put Sweet Tooth in another part eventually. wink ;) 


	2. Part Two

Part Two: Agent Stone and No-Face

Agent Stone

_I pray to God every day I'm here. Some people have said they've spoken to him...I don't doubt it. I know the only reason I don't hear anything from him is because of what I've done. Not even He can forgive me.

* * *

_

As I went through my round of checking on patients they were all in their usual spots: Sweet Tooth standing there in the middle of his cell staring right at me, Doll Face and No Face in each of the respective corners in their cells. The Preacher and Agent Stone both sitting in front of the small crosses they're allowed and praying. I feel no pity for the Preacher; he's just as nutty for as the rest of these guys. Actually, Agent Stone may be the only one here that I feel sorry for.

The poor guy, he was on the police force for nearly ten years, and during most of it he was on SWAT. Some doomsday cult they'd been trying tirelessly to stop had finally been cornered one night. Agent Stone has told me about this, he has no hallucinations and I'm fairly confident everything he says is true. Anyways, the cult had been successfully terrorizing innocent people for weeks and

_we'd finally got these guys where we wanted them. I was on the roof across from their building, and the ringleader was walking around yelling into his phone at the negotiator like he had been for the past hour. Why should we negotiate with these bastards? All they'd done was slaughter innocent lives, and now...it was time to pay._

_My rage was building up, and I couldn't wait for the signal to go. Payback was going to be brutal. Every second took longer than the last, and I was starting to shake from my anger. All the things they'd done were flashing through my head. All the times I'd been unable to stop them. Now I could, and there was no gettin' away! I was gonna send these bastards to hell where they belong!_

_"Open fire!"_

_It's time! I let loose on that dirtbag, and didn't stop til he was half past dead. Afterwards, I felt a lot better. We got 'em. Standard routine made me check around to see if any more were coming to his aid..._

_and my _god_...what had I done?_

From his anger, he'd been a little too shaky to wield that automatic sniper rifle with enough effectiveness. Turns out, a few of his stray bullets caught a couple of the hostages. It was a mother and her daughter...Stone told me she couldn't have been more than eight years old. When I checked the records out of curiosity, she'd turned eight about three months before that. That was really when my pity for him developed.

_I stared in some grotesque mutated form of horror. Half of it was I couldn't believe my shots had gone that far off, the other half was of what had been the consequences of my emotions. The mother and daughter were lying in a pool of their own pure blood. It struck me that they were dead when I saw the girl's toy. A little bear, now soaked in her blood just as she was. Like some cannibalistic ewok. I screamed._

From there, the SWAT took care of the rest of the guys and found out what had happened. When they went to the roof across from there, they were looking for Stone. What they found was some shell casings and that's it.

_I'd hidden a few roofs away, the searchlight from the chopper was shining in fluorescent fashion outside of my spot. There was no turning back. I couldn't help the two innocent people I had killed. Nothing could save me now. Only one option was left to me._

_I put the barrel of my rifle into my mouth, prepared to right my wrong as best as I could. It wasn't enough, but at least I wouldn't have to live with the guilt. My finger was trembling on the trigger and sweat was virtually pouring down my head. As a tear slipped out of my eye, I pulled that trigger._

_And all I got...was a click._

I'm not sure whether it was a good or bad thing, but he'd been out of ammo. When SWAT found him he was just laying there crying and telling them to kill him because he didn't deserve to live. I'll always remember the way he told me about how it went though..."There was only one way out left...but that way was closed..."

_I close my eyes again. I know I shouldn't be forgiven, but I wish for it anyways. There had never been any intent for that to happen. Redemption wasn't a thing I could simply wish for...and God had forgotten me.

* * *

_

No-Face

_Once you been in here long enough, it stops mattering how far time has gone. When you've been the way Ihave long enough...you get kind of glad you're locked away from the rest of the world. My name is Frank and I was put in here after a little malpractice on the part of a doctor. Doctor. Can I even call him that? After what he's done? No, a doctor is someone who helps people. Not someone who does the thing he did._

_I was a boxer, you woulda never heard of me, but I enjoyed it and sometimes I did pretty good. But one night a real tough guy from outta state fought me. He knocked me out in the first round and beat the daylights outta me to do it. It wasn't a one punch deal. He beat me to a pulp before I finally went down. My jaw was shattered and my nose was broken. As you can imagine, I wasn't lookin' too good. The doctor I went to right after said I wasn't gonna look good either. I was pretty much disfigured from the fight._

_A few of the guys at the gymtold me about this plastic surgeon they knew. The doc wasn't a real successful one apparently, but he was a bigfan of the fights. I figured he'd understand and wouldn't mind operatin' on me. Grey concrete and green moss growing outta the cracks in the walls, a falling apart tile floor and some beat up lighting...that was the office...and the operating room. As he administered my anesthesia I heard him telling me about how he'd bet on a fight. _My _fight._

_"Fifty thousand dollars, Mr. McCutcheon. Fifty _thousand_ dollars I lost on you that night."_

_Right before I went out, the only thing I could hear was the scraping of his blades...and some blaring opera music he turned on while he worked. If I'd stayed awake, that music woulda probably given me a headache._

_Speakin' of headaches, when I woke up my face hurt ten times worse than it did the night I got beat by the outta-state guy. It was real bad. When I tried to open my eyes...I couldn't. When I tried to ask why I couldn't see...my mouth wouldn't move. I touched my face with my hands...and realized what he did to me._

_The doc sewed my eyes and mouth shut, and probably gave me a good beating in the face with something because god damn did it _hurt_. When I touched my eyelids they gave in. He'd cut out my freakin' eyes! And...and my tongue, too. No wonder I felt so nasty. I stumbled out of his room and went through the other parts of the hospital... I had been tryin' to find him, I guess. I don't really remember what I was thinkin' at that point. All I know is that I wanted to rip that doc's head off. The fear I was feelin', and the pain I was fightin' drove me to a point of heightened strength. I couldn't smell or taste anything obviously and I couldn't see anymore, but I could sure as hell hear. That was enough for me to find him. Well, I _thought _found him._

_I beat him to death right there. Punch after punch. It only took about thirty seconds or so...some other guy saw it and started screamin'...so I went after him, too. I ended up killin' six innocent people before the cops got there. I feel terrible for what I did, and I know I can't take it back. But don't get me wrong, though. If I got a hold of that doctor and _knew _it was him...I'd rip that "doctor" to shreds._

_

* * *

_A/N: I don't know how fun this is to read but I'm having a blast writing these. So I've been through four characters with a relatively sparse amount of humor...who will be spoofed? Find out next part. 


	3. Two escapes and a Prisoner

**Agent Stone's escape**

* * *

Stone sits in his cell, utterly depressed. He can't help but notice that the fluffy panels on the walls remind him of stray bullets. He cries for a while, and then goes to sleep. When he wakes up some time later, he realizes it's incredibly quiet. Usually at this time you could hear the clown thrashing around in his cell, trying to get comfortable. Instead there was just...nothing. Stone stops sucking his thumb and watches in half-hope, half-horror as the door to his cell opens. 

The Fallen Agent recognizes the guy standing there almost right away. It was Calypso. He was tempted to try and attack this guy, then run out of this place...but Calypso spoke.

"Hello, Agent Stone," the strange friendliness radiating from him caught the interest of the agent. Was that _really_ Calypso? It had to be.

"I know why you're in here. I've come to you to offer you an opportunity. An opportunity to save yourself from the past, and the mistake you made," Agent Stone realized the bastard was up to the same tricks he'd been up to for god knows how long.

"I think you should leave now," he said to Calypso in a shaky voice. But then it happened. Calypso pulled out something of obvious significance to the Agent, and tossed it onto the ground.

_My _god. _He knew! How could he have known?_

Stone stared at it for a few seconds before deciding, maybe it _was_ ok to go along with this.

_Ice cream...it's a big thing to offer to a man without a hope, in Hell. _

How could I refuse?

* * *

**Axel's escape**

* * *

Somebody killed my wife. I don't know who. One day I was at the park, taking a nap, and when I woke up multiple hours later she was gone! Taken right from me! My rage got the better of me again, and I screamed. I couldn't stand too much more of this waiting-around-to-be-released deal. I had things to do. 

Funny I think that, because my cell's door has just opened.

"Hello, Axel," some weird guy said.

"Who the hell are you? How'd you get in here?"

"I am Calypso."

_What a stupid name _I thought.

"So what do you want?"

"Money and a golden toilet," Calypso replied.

"What do you want from _me_?"

"Ah yes, I'm holding a krazy kontest. Would you like to participate in it?"

"Why do you spell those words with k's?" I was startled by that.

"How did you know?"

"It says right up there."

"Anyways, do you want in or not?" Calypso got back to the point.

"Well, what do I get out of it?"

"I'll show you who killed your wife," This guy must be even crazier than I am.

"You...know who did it?" But maybe he _did_ know.

"Yes, and if you participate in this krazy kontest, and kill all the other contestants in vehicular combat, I'll show you."

"Why can't you just show me now?"

"My hands are tied," he tried not to smirk at my self-restraints.

I thought about it for a long time. It had to be all of ten seconds.

"Show me where to go," I said at last.

"Follow me," he went down the hallway. I rolled forward into the wall, backed up, rolled forward again (harder than last time), and bounced off again.

Once I get out of my cell, the man who killed my wife will have nowhere to go.

Somebody needs to knock in the god damn wall.

**_Skipping to when Axel wins the contest_**

I had won the contest. I went to Calypso and demanded my prize. I wanted to know who killed my wife. And I wanted revenge...

It was _him_, that freak in the ice cream truck! He was always around the neighborhood. I should've been more careful, should've sensed something was wrong. It was my fault! Maybe I was the one to blame for my wife's death...But then...he spoke to me.

"Your wife..she didn't die easy. You should know...she asked for _two_ scoops of fudge on her sundae." I somehow retrieved a pistol from nowhere and shot him in the head until I felt a little better.

The clown is dead, but so is my wife... I will never be free!

Because I left the key in my pocket.

* * *

**The Preacher (Foghorn Leghorn)**

**

* * *

**

The Lord works in mysterious ways. Really mysterious ways. In fact, I just don't get it. Why would the Lord let a _demon_ take control of my body, and force me to kill all of those people? I couldn't bear to think about it any longer, the demon inside me was taking pleasure in remembering what happened that night, the sick monster. I've tried to understand why this happened to me, of all people. Maybe God is testing me. But I'm just stuck in a cell, nowhere else to go. How is that a test?

I get to my knees and pray for mercy. Was I supposed to try and fight the demon? It was much too strong for me! God can't _really_ think I can defeat a minion of Satan like that, can he? If he does, I could be damned for all eternity for not defeating it.

"If you're 555 I'm, 6-6-6." The guard outside sang in a jazzy way. Many times I thought that perhaps Lucifer was my guard. Anybody in this place could be the devil, though. Especially that damn clown. Despite the flames of Hell burning his head, he still stays relatively calm almost all of the time. What kind of a human can endure pain like that? When I had asked my guard that question, he'd replied, "He's not a human...he's a clown." Lucifer indeed.

The Lord still hasn't sent word on what I'm doing here, so I suppose that for now I'll just wait.

* * *

A/N: Took a long time to update this, but I was busy. Doing non-productive things. Actually, I was writing some of my own original story, if you _have_ to know. I take a lot more pride in that one than any of these fics that I've written. If you wanna see it, you can send me a message. Otherwise you can wait for me to write some more on here. 


End file.
